


Low Commotion

by FakePlastikTrees



Category: Good Girls (TV), Ocean's 8 (2018)
Genre: Bisexual Beth Boland, F/F
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-06
Updated: 2019-03-06
Packaged: 2019-11-13 00:46:55
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,338
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18021656
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FakePlastikTrees/pseuds/FakePlastikTrees
Summary: Debbie learns Danny owed someone money, but there are more creative ways to pay off a debt and she knows someone who can help her with that.





	Low Commotion

Cup O’ Joe’s is the last coffee place in Silverlake not taken over by the hipster community—realistically, that wouldn’t be the case for much longer though, and Debbie knows she is one of few reasons the place remains open after all these years. It seems every time she makes her way back to Los Angeles, some new Vegan restaurant or ironically named shop of some sort has replaced places she once considered community staples.

 

When she arrived a month ago, she had no idea she’d find one of her favorite places surrounded by such shops. Her heart breaks for Joe and his husband, Mike. They aren’t much older than she is, but they’re old timers; born and raised in the neighborhood, a rare case in Los Angeles, and have owned the coffee shop since ‘95, when Debbie spent a year or so talking rich kids out of their trust funds with card games she’d host in her apartment above the record store across the street. That record store is now a bike shop.

 

Joe and Mike gave her free coffee and a ham bagel whenever she was short on cash and no matter how long she’s gone, they greet her like no time has passed. They were her brothers when Danny wasn’t around. And now they are the only brothers she has left.

 

“Morning, boys.”

 

Mike waves at her from the back of the kitchen, where he’s taking a phone order. By the time Debbie reaches the counter, Joe has an iced coffee with a splash of soy milk waiting for her.

 

“Hi, doll,” He says warmly, newly dyed blue hair catching her eye.

 

“Oh, I like the hair.”

 

“Thank you! Ham bagel, honey?”

 

“Not today, thanks, Joe. How much do I owe you?”

 

Joe gives her a look like she should know better and waves her off, but she slips a 20 in the tip jar when he’s not looking anyway.

 

“Can I sit outside?” She asks and hears muffled ‘yes’ from where Joe’s stacking paper towels under the counter. Spotting the neatly folded newspaper sitting next to the cash register, she calls again, “You done with this paper?”

 

“All yours, babe.”

 

“Thank you.”

 

The chairs outside are still sitting upside down on the tables so she sets them all down before taking a seat on the sunnier end of the sidewalk. It’s April and mornings are still tolerable before noon. She doesn’t bother shielding her arms from the warmth of sunshine just yet.

 

Debbie gets only a few moments of leisure before her sunshine is blocked by a familiar shadow. She doesn’t bother looking up from her newspaper, not even when the seat opposite her is pulled back and the seat is occupied; not when her coffee is pulled out of reach, but she does sigh, making sure her annoyance is clear.

 

“Coffee costs two dollars.”

 

“Tastes better stolen.”

 

Debbie takes a second to smile to herself, rakes in two more lines of the article she had been reading, and then lowers the paper. Met with her own reflection on a pair of aviator glasses, she takes her coffee back and sips it.

 

“What are you doing here, Lou?”

 

“I was in the neighborhood. Thought I’d say hey.”

 

“You hate LA.”

 

“Too cold in the East Coast.”

 

There’s a moment where they just sit there and take each other in, basking in the comfortable silence as they get reacquainted with being in each other’s space. It hasn’t been as long as before but still, it takes a moment, and when that moment passes, Lou breaks the silence.

 

“Is there somewhere we can talk?”

 

“What’s wrong with here?”

 

“It’s uh, delicate.” Lou says, pushing her glasses up. “We should talk in private.”

 

Debbie considers making some smarmy comment laced with innuendo, but the way Lou’s expression doesn’t soften tells Debbie it really is serious so she folds the paper and leaves it on the table for the next person before getting up.

 

“I’ve got a place down the block,” She tells Lou, nodding towards the helmet on her lap. “Park the bike in the little green house. Corner lot. I’ll be there in a minute.”

 

Lou nods and hops on her bike. As Debbie walks back in the coffee shop, she hears the engine peel off. She asks Joe if he could water her plants if she happens to maybe, possibly leave town within the next few days, she orders another iced coffee for Lou and heads home. Her front door is ajar when she gets there and she shakes her head.

 

“If you’re going to break in, can you at least close the door?”

 

“Says the woman with the most obvious hide-a-key in the world!” Lou replies from the kitchen, where Debbie guesses she’s already rummaging through her refrigerator.

 

“I don’t have a hide-a-key.”

 

Lou emerges from behind the refrigerator door, cold grilled cheese in her mouth, balancing a jar of pickles and a bottle of lemonade. “Okay, fine, I broke in.”

 

“That’s from two nights ago.”

 

“Still good.”

 

Shaking her head, Debbie takes a seat at the small dinette in the corner by the the window and waits for Lou to get settled on the counter top.

 

“So, what’s going on?”

 

Lou meets Debbie’s eyes then, reflecting that tinge of seriousness form earlier that made Debbie’s stomach drop.

 

“I uh, had unexpected visitors waiting for me in New York a few days ago. Some guys looking for you. They said Danny owes them some money.” Lou spoke softly, carefully.

 

“Well, Danny’s dead, so they’re going to have a hard time collecting that debt.”

 

A knowing silence stretched out between them.

 

“Deb--”

 

“So, how much do they say he owes them?”

 

“Half a billion.”

 

Debbie snorts. “That’s not going to happen.”

 

“I figured that. I told them I didn’t know how to contact you. I don’t know if they bought it, but I haven’t seen anyone follow me, so I bought us a week or so.”

 

“Us?”

 

“What? You think you can get out of this on your own?”

 

“Well, I can, but if you’re bored.”

 

“Just admit you need my help.”

 

“I don’t. I don’t need your help.”

 

“Okay.”

 

“Did you uh, get a name we can work with?”

 

“Balthazar.”

 

Debbie perks up at that. “Balthazar??”

 

“Yeah,” Loud nods. “Tell me it’s not Roy Balthazar.”

 

“Okay, it’s not Roy Balthazar.”

 

Lou closes her eyes and tilts her head back with a groan of annoyance. “Oceans are the worst.”

 

“You still have Nine Ball’s number?”

 

“She’s retired.”

 

“Not for thirty million she’s not.”

 

“30 _million_?”

 

Debbie nods enthusiastically.

 

“But first, I need to go to Detroit.”

 

“For what?”

 

“To see a friend--will you put that down? I’ll make you something to eat. My god.”

 

____________________________________________________________________________

 

There’s something about getting a big payoff that really puts Beth in an altogether good mood. Sure the money’s a big part of it, but really and truly, this world's biggest plus side is that for the first time in maybe her life, Beth knows what it’s like to have a true sense of autonomy. She feels in control and confident, and complete—well, almost complete.

 

This thing with Rio drives her crazy. The animosity between them has simmered down to a low boil and sometimes she feels he sees her as an equal, but only sometimes.

 

The tension between them is as indescribable and wrong as always, but the mistrust still lingers around them and Beth knows that will always be the wedge between them, but that hostility might also be what keeps their relationship, professional or otherwise, running smoothly. It’s complicated, to say the least, redundant to an extent.  

 

Sure, the money’s good, and has been consistently good for a while now, but there’s no movement and Beth is growing restless, which is why she welcomes the initial irritation of finding Debbie Ocean sitting on her doorstep sucking on a popsicle. While Beth hates an unannounced visit, she sure welcomes a little stir up.

 

“Heya, Marks.”

 

“Deb.”

 

She looks good, Debbie does, sunkissed and beautiful as always, but a little dangerous in the specifically Ocean way. Beth instantly wants to know what chaos this visit will inevitably bring her, but she’s not ready for that just yet.

 

Debbie sizes Beth up from her position on the stoop, takes her time doing it too before finally getting to her feet. Pointing at the grocery bags in Beth’s arms, she asks, “Need some help?”

 

Beth wordlessly hands one bag over and and shakes her head with a smirk on her face as she lead her through the front door.

 

They walk in, straight through to the kitchen in silence. While Beth puts groceries away Debbie played with the dog, and it isn’t until Beth’s got a fresh pot of coffee brewing that Buddy finally runs out the back door to play in the yard,and Debbie sets her sunglasses down on the counter, instantly mirroring Beth’s position on the other side of the counter; elbows on the marble top, expectant look on her face.

 

“Who died?” Beth asks.

 

Debbie’s retort is a chuckle, leading Beth to inquire further. “Are you in trouble?”

 

“No.” Then, “Well, not yet.”

 

Beth rolls her eyes and stands up straight, placing more distance between them by leaning back against the sink.

 

“I knew it. Why else would you be here.”

 

“Because--I missed you?”

 

Beth’s ‘yeah right’ expression makes Debbie laugh and throw her hands up. “Okay. You want to the long version or the short version.”

 

“The mega short, micro version.”

 

“Alright,” Debbie nods. “Danny owed some money and now the debt is on me.”

 

“How big a debt?”

 

“Big.”

 

“ _How_ big?”

 

“500 million.”

 

Beth throws her head back and laughed this incredulous laugh, and of course an Ocean left a debt big enough to fund a small country.

 

“And you think, what? That I just have 500 million dollars laying around in case you ever need a loan?”

 

“I do want your help but I don’t want a loan,” Debbie tells her.

 

“Then what do you want?”

 

Once, years ago, Beth had asked Debbie that question and her inability to answer her then had caused them their ill-defined relationship. The look in Debbie’s eyes tells Beth she remembers perfectly.

 

After a moment of painful recollection, Debbie speaks again, and what she says, Beth was half expecting.

 

“I know what you do, Marks.”

 

No one else calls her Marks; no one really says it like Debbie does, and that’s perhaps what stirs Beth up more than actually seeing her here, it’s what makes it more real. After an all-too stretched out silence, Beth snorts an unconvincing laugh. “Which is what?”

 

“You do what I do,” Debbie declares. “Different circles, but ultimately, same league, so. I need your help.”

 

“I can’t get you money, I don’t have that kind of pull, Deb.”

 

“I don’t want _money_.”

 

Beth is confused, maybe a little frazzled and distracted by the particular way the veins on Debbie’s hands stand out in a very attractive pattern; she suddenly recalls spending many a time tracing the paths they map out.

 

“I want you,” Debbie states. And then, at Beth’s guarded silence, adds, “I want your assistance. In a job.”

 

Beth snaps out of her trance long enough to gain a little perspective, mostly triggered by interest, and steps towards the counter once again, palms flat on the surface.

 

“How well thought out is this job?”

 

“Well enough that you’re the last of seven others already signed up and ready to go.”

 

Beth worries her bottom lip, eyes narrowed with suspicion she only reserves for Debbie. “How long of a job?”

 

“Few weeks, no more than eight, no less than four.”

 

Beth nods. “And the cut?”

 

“Thirty mill sound good?”

 

Thirty mill is more than good, it’s outrageously good. But Beth digs for a little more nonetheless. “I want whatever you’re getting.”

 

Debbie smirks. “Forty it is.”

 

“And I want a full rundown.”

 

“You’ve got it.”

 

“And no more showing up unannounced.”

 

“Yes, ma’am.”

 

There’s another pause and a far too intimate stare-down that makes Beth catch her breath. “Give me a few days to delegate some things and I’ll be in touch.”

 

“Welcome to the team, Marks.”

 

Beth nods in the direction of the front door. “You should go. My kids are due home soon.”

 

“Okay.”

 

Beth turns toward the sink to busy her hands with a few dirty dishes left sitting in soapy water, hoping that by the time she turns back around Debbie will be gone, but instead she feels her sidle up behind her and Beth has to hold her breath a beat when Debbie places a hand on her hip, just barely grazing, and with the other, brushes her hair aside.

 

There is a featherlight kiss on the side of her neck that blankets Beth in goosebumps, and then a low whisper that makes her eyes involuntarily drift shut.

 

“I did miss you, Marks.”

 

Beth turns her head enough to catch the edge of Debbie’s stare and she inhales slowly, and deeply as the hand on her hip slides up her side.

 

“You miss me?” Debbie drawls out, and if Beth wasn’t so painfully aware of the very small space between their mouths, she would be annoyed by her presumptuousness.

 

It’s tempting to feed into Debbie’s little seduction, but it would also be far too easy to feed an ego that grows like a Chia Pet with the tiniest bit of attention, so instead, Beth softly replies, “Absolutely not.”

 

Debbie’s breathy little chuckle is unnerving, but Beth stands her ground and returns her attention to her dishes, even when Debbie takes an extra second to tug at the hem of her shirt. The only acknowledgement she gives her is faintest of smiles.

 

“See you around, Marks.”

 

And then she’s gone and Beth is bracing herself on the edge of the sink, wondering what the hell she’s just agreed to, almost regretting it, but not quite yet.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not entirely sure what I'm going to do with their backstory yet, or when I'll have time to update this but here it is! A first chapter! Also, I didn't proofread this because I'm lazy.


End file.
